


Stratus

by greenleafin



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst, Military, Movie Spoilers, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleafin/pseuds/greenleafin
Summary: The night before they join the fight to save soldiers from Dunkirk





	Stratus

Harsh wind slapped at his face as he stood on the landing strip, waiting—along with everyone else—for their flight instructor to bring his bird down. He turned his head to the side, nodding at his companion as droopy blue eyes met his own. He coughed and shuffled on his feet, using the movement to disguise his whisper. “This prat takes any longer we’ll all freeze our bollocks off ‘fore we see any damn Jerry’s.”

Collins snickered, ducking his chin so no one could see. Farrier faced forward once again and watched as the wheels unfurled from the plane’s belly. A minute later and the screech of rubber on cement contact met their ears. It took a long moment, but eventually the aircraft rolled to a complete stop. Some of the men around them moved, anxiously awaiting their Air Marshal to pop out of the glass pane separating him from his men.

Farrier didn’t care about whatever grand speech he was going to give them. All he wanted was for this to be bloody _over_ and head inside, pounce on whatever measly rations they were going to be offered at mess, and sleep.

“Oi, S’pose—”

“Shh,” someone hissed at Collins, and Farrier bristled minutely. True the man couldn’t whisper for piss but…

“Sorry, mate,” Collins responded and mouthed _tell you later_ at Farrier.

When the cockpit finally opened, an older gent hauled himself up, choosing to stand on his seat instead of disembarking from the craft. Farrier repared himself for some long drawn-out shit, but the man kept it short. Thanked them for coming out there and offering their service, and tomorrow they’d be briefed more on the situation. Simple and short. One of the finer speeches that Farrier had ever listened to.

They were released for dinner, and Collins hung back for a moment, wanting to follow the crowd instead of mull his way through it. Farrier stuck his hands in his pockets and jerked his head in the direction of the mess, and Collins shook out his shoulders, fixed his hands in his armpits and trailed after his bulkier friend with exaggerated, slow hops.

By the time they arrived, nearly everyone else was already on base. Farrier cast a look towards Collins for keeping them. Collins shrugged and grabbed a plate, letting the women load it up with some grey slop. Farrier shook his head, smirking, and allowed another woman to do the same to his tray.

Way back when he first entered the Royal Air Force, he minded the disgusting nature of the food a lot more. Twelve years later he was used to it.

His friend on the other hand was newer to this. He could never hide his grimace from the first bite of the meal meeting his tongue.

Farrier didn’t blame him though. It was atrocious.

It didn’t matter how long he was in the military for, nothing could get him to admit that what they served was barely edible. It was food though, and Collins would learn to appreciate that fact soon enough. The lot of new recruits all would.

Meals were retrieved and the two of them maneuvered around the hall to find seats for themselves. Farrier didn’t care if he ate alone with strangers. Collins sure did. As soon as he spotted two empty spots on the end of a bench, he grunted loud enough so that the blonde could hear him, and he strode over. He’d misjudged the amount of room that was available to them and plopped his plate down. He clambered onto the one-man space, and Collins waited patiently.

“Aye, pal. Would ya mind scooting over just a little? Not enough room for my friend here.” The man to his right ignored him and Collins moved his weight to one foot. Farrier cleared his throat. “S’cuse me, mate. I asked if you could move it a bit.”

“I heard you.”

He blinked and raised his brows. “Then would you mind it terribly?”

This was already dragging on longer than he cared to let it, and he was torn between just having Collins take a seat at a table where they could still see each other or find them a new place.

Slowly though the man inched to the side just enough for Farrier to follow suit and allow Collins to slide in.

“Thanks a lot,” was Collins response to the man, however snide. Farrier kicked him gently, a reminder to keep his mouth shut amongst these overly aggressive pilots. Rather than taking the hint, Collins nailed him in the side with his elbow. Farrier glared at him even as Collins shoveled in a spoonful of what barely passed as porridge. The building was shoddily put together, cracks in the wooden walls allowing the cold to seep in. The floorboards were solid, but bits of ground showed through in the two centimeter gaps between them. The light above them flickered incessantly, and Farrier noticed Collins shiver. He was no fan of this lodge.

They ate silently for a while until Farrier grumbled out, “What were you going to say earlier?”

Collins choked on his drink and thumped his chest a couple times. “Just thought it’d be funny if he got stuck in there. Yakin’ on that latch while we’re all standin’ around waitin’ for him to be all posh.” He chuckled to himself and even Farrier had to admit that the image was humorous.

Supper time ended and the regulars at the base all shuffled off to do their normal duties. The rest of Collins and Farrier’s group were entrusted to not act like absolute planks and could roam about as they pleased for the night.

“Hey, wait a few minutes,” Collins told him, a wink that was only visible to Farrier added in after his command. Farrier knew where this was going to lead.

He looked about them, bringing his voice low enough that even if there were still people around them, no one would hear. Someone on the other side of the hall dropped a dish onto the wooden floor, hollering at someone to come clean it up. “We don’t know this base. Anyone could find us.”

Collins laughed and clapped Farrier’s back as he stood up. “It’s part of the excitement, that. Come on, I think I saw a place.”

The colder temperature only continued to drop as the sun did. Regardless of the fact that it was late May, the delayed onset of winter had only served to make the springtime a living hell. Countering his own arguments, Farrier still followed him out. Collins led them away from any of the lights of the compound. There was some dinky little shed far away from any prying eyes, and Farrier was impressed that the blonde had spotted this already.

As they approached, Collins removed one hand from his pocket and knocked on the door, pressing his ear to it just in case. “It’s clear,” he whispered, and yanked on the handle. It wouldn’t budge. He pouted, and Farrier nudged him aside, leaning more of his weight into it and getting the same result. He tried once more only to fail, and when he turned around again Collins was gone.

“Don’t think you’re going to pop out at me without getting knocked in the face,” he warned but there was no response. He called out Collins’s name a few times, even trying out the man’s first moniker. Again, nothing. It was growing dark, and were Farrier a man more prone to fear he might be worried that someone had taken Collins.

There was a rustling in the shed, followed by a muffled banging.

Within another few moments, the door was opened and Collins stood in the entryway, self-satisfied smirk donning his face. “How’d you manage this?” Farrier asked as he was permitted to enter.

“There’s an open window to the side. Had to take a running start, hauled myself in, unlocked the door, and now here I am.” Farrier closed the door behind himself, and despite the distinct lack of sun, could still make out Collins’s large smile. They wasted no time throwing themselves at each other, mouths connecting and not parting until a quick drag of breath was absolutely necessary. Collins clutched at Farrier’s jacket, sighting softly.

“Been too long.”

Farrier chuckled. He ran a hand through Collins’s hair. “It’s only been two days.”

His answer was a resounding groan. “Too long, mate. Too fuckin’ long.” There was a bundle of old tarps in the corner near the door, and Farrier walked the two of them over to the material. It wasn’t going to be a comfortable time, but it was what they had.

Maybe when this was all over, when they were allowed to return home for a time, they’d be allowed to rent a little loft together. Scotland, England, even bloody America, Farrier didn’t  care. Just a place to themselves. Live off government stipends for a time, and no one would question them. They’d be war heroes.

It was a fantasy that was far off, and Farrier had no time for fantasies. But whenever Collins went on about life after the war it was hard not to listen to his wishes and dreams. _It’d be top, Jack. Just us, maybe get a lab, yeah?_ Farrier would never say anything, only tuck a piece of hair behind Collins’s ear. Before he had never had any hopes for _after’s._ He only had time to keep himself safe, keep himself alive. Ever since Collins trounced in with his Scotts accent and cocky demeanor though, he’d found himself looking after the other man more than himself. Since they’d been together Farrier found himself more and more often wondering what it would be like when the fighting was done. He found himself more and more often realizing that whatever plans he had always included Collins.

The man beneath him gasped softly and bucked up. Farrier held him tightly and didn’t let go. He placed kisses at the man’s neck, unbuttoning his shirt and hiked up the thin white undershirt when he was done. He moved back down and left a wet trail as he did. Collins loved the attention, letting out soft pants as Farrier went. He knew to be quiet after the first time they were caught. Neither of them cared to repeat the instance.

Hands joined his as he hurried to unbuckle his belt, wrapping in Farrier’s hair once Collins’s pants were pulled down enough to free his cock.

As soon as Farrier’s mouth was wrapped around him, Collins bit down on his jacket collar, letting the tufted fur silence him. He hated the way it tasted, but he soon forgot about it as soon as Farrier deep throated him.

It didn’t last long, and when Collins tried to reciprocate, Farrier simply caught his wrist and pressed a kiss to it before laying down next to the other man. The tarps were dirty and uncomfortable now that they were finished, but still Collins’s eyes began to drift shut. “Just sleep for a little while. I’ll be here.” He didn’t need to be told twice, simply allowed Farrier to wrap his arms around him and shimmied closer.

Half an hour, that was all he’d give Collins in this rank shed.

The last glimpses of the sun fast disappeared for the day, and the structure was thrown into near complete darkness. After just a few minutes, Collins relaxed, and his breathing evened out. Farrier thought back to the missions that they had run together in the past. All the times Collins had saved him, and the more abundant times he had saved Collins. He never let himself dwell on the near death experiences he had gone through personally, there was no need. He was here and he was alive so what was the point.

But whenever he recalled a time Collins was nearly killed his heart seized and his throat dried. Collins once said if he had a pence for each time Farrier yelled at him for it he’d be the richest man in all the world. Farrier had pushed him against a wall and shagged him until he begged for mercy.

Now he could just listen to the man breathe. Let the soft puffs of air warm his neck as he tried his best to let his eyes adjust enough to see the ceiling above them. It wasn’t as though he got off to listening to Collins inhale and exhale, but it was a reminder of the fact that he was still alive to do so.

True to his word, after the allotted time he whispered Collins’s name. Perhaps it was a bit later than he’d said, but seeing Collins look so peaceful instead of bounding with energy all the time was...Well.

When there was no immediate response he pressed a kiss to Collins’s jaw, letting his stubble rub against him.

Collins let out a whine.

“Get up, love. Get ready for bed then go to sleep til morning.” He tried to pull away so he could assist Collins in waking, but he was stopped by the grip Collins had on him. There was not a single person Farrier would let live seeing him like this, but for Collins he made an exception. He pressed kiss upon kiss to the man’s face and sang old terrible tunes his mother used to croak out for him. Eventually Asher’s pretty blue eyes opened and he laughed, pleading with Farrier to stop before his ears bled.

Farrier relented, already moving on to buttoning Collins’s shirt for him so they could leave. They brushed themselves off and Collins left first, looking around himself before exiting. Farrier counted to a hundred in his head before he walked out of the shed.

It didn’t take him long to locate Collins, the blonde leaning up against where they’d bunk for the night as he was. He wrapped an arm around him and yanked him inside, deeming the gesture friendly enough.

Not many of their fellow transfer pilots had yet claimed bunks, so Farrier made sure to get them two beds in the corner.

He patted one of the beds down, thumped the pillow a few times, then motioned for Collins to lay down. He didn’t object, though when he tried to question Farrier the larger man shushed him. He went to grab their bags that they’d left near the front of the barracks, slinging his own over his shoulder and carrying the other man’s in his free hand. When he returned, Collins already had his eyes shut, though he peeked one open when he heard Farrier’s boots against the ground.

“Just go to sleep.”

“Aim not even ready.”

“Get that way.” Collins scoffed and moved to do as he was told. He knew why Farrier was on edge. They were going out again tomorrow. It’d be another dogfight by the looks of it, giving the soldiers in Dunkirk enough cover to escape. He sighed and sat up, shrugging off his coat and unbuttoning his outer shirt.

Farrier watched him out of the corner of his eye as he readied his own cot. The mattresses looked less worn than the ones at the base they had just been in, and he was happy for the fact that neither of them would have sore backs when they woke. Collins left his bomber jacket hanging on the edge of the bed and folded his shirt neatly before placing it on the trunk at the end of his bed. He leaned over to grab his wooden toothbrush and retreated to the decaying porcelain sinks. Farrier didn’t bother brushing until he woke up, but Collins was a stickler for personal hygiene. Farrier undressed himself down to his long johns and laid down. Asher returned soon enough and yanked off his boots, socks and pants, leaving only his boxers and undershirt left. He sat on his bed and sighed.

“Farrier?”

“Yeah.”

Collins was quiet for a while after that. Farrier could imagine all the things he wanted to say, but there were still men around preventing him. Instead he muttered good night to his companion and crawled underneath the horrid, scratchy covers. Farrier watched him as Collins turned to face him. He opened his mouth to speak but Farrier cut him off. “We’ve got to get up early tomorrow.” Collins wrinkled his nose and Farrier wished he could bend down by his side until he slept.

“Prick.”

“Never claimed to be anything but. Now sleep.” Collins flopped onto his back with a loud huff, but in the two years they’d known each other Farrier had come to know him well enough to recognize when he was moments from crashing.

Sure enough, Collins was back to dozing. Farrier looked at him for a time before staring at the wooden roof above them.

Despite his care towards Collins, Farrier did not fall asleep for hours. Pilots poured into the barracks, some loud enough to make Collins stir but not wake. Farrier twitched each time a man raised his voice louder than it needed to be. But he never tore his gaze off the rafters unless it was to glance at the slumbering man. By the time the lights needed to be turned off, he’d counted seven cobwebs, thirteen mis-hammered nails, and one birds nest. Even when they were plunged into the darkness of night he didn’t move his eyes from straight ahead.

He knew what awaited him when he slept.

Nightmares of everything that could go wrong. Getting shot down, a malfunction in the plane, a parachute not opening even if he did try to escape. He swallowed a lump in his throat and ignored any possibility that something could befall the only man he cared about.

The next morning he was ripped from his snooze by trumpets. When he was awake it was instantaneous in the way he slid out of bed and began to dress again. Collins was slower, but Farrier being ready before him simply meant that he could nag him to move faster.

Once they were ready they had to leave, and once they left they’d be on their way to enemy territory.

There were three of them leaving that day en route to Dunkirk. Their Wing Commander was already inside his bird by the time Collins and Farrier approached theirs. He saluted them and they returned the gesture before the two turned to face each other. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Farrier didn’t know what to say, and Collins couldn’t bring himself to say what he wanted to. Their helmets were tucked under one arm each and Collins played with the strap on his.

“I’ll see you again when we’re back, yeah?” The blonde decided on saying finally. There was a nervous smile on Collins’s lips and a rigidness in his body that negated his nonchalant attitude.

Farrier wanted nothing more than to pull him close and press their foreheads together, give him one final kiss and a goodbye—just in case. Instead he laid his hand on Asher’s shoulder and cleared his throat quietly. “Just be careful. Stay safe, fathead.”

Collins tilted his head, expression taking on something sadder before taking a couple steps back to his plane. He called out as he went, “Your worrying’s got about as much use as a cock flavored lollipop, Farrier.” There was a small tug of Jack’s lips at the quip before Collins continued. “I don’t need to be careful, I’ve always got you looking after me.”

**Author's Note:**

> ayeeee waddup everyone. ur probably gonna be seeing a couple dunkirk fics from me in the future because i like...love it or whatever nbd lol. it was my birthday on tuesday and im done w work for the summer before i go back to school so i should be able 2 write more often! (i pray) 
> 
> as always u can find me on [tumblr](http://whillowed.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/maxalackin)!! ask me anything, send comments, or whatever u want! feel free 2 follow for updates or if u wanna be mutuals lol. peace


End file.
